Recovery
by SpecialAgentZiva
Summary: She tried to forgive him, but it would be harder than she thought. Even through his obvious love and friendship, can she find a way to repair herself so that she can finally befriend, and love, him back?
1. A Thousand Lives For You

**A/N: Wow. I actually forgot to say that I don't own NCIS or the lyrics to Temptation by Cote de Pablo, although I'd love to.**

**This is a little different than most of my fics. More dark and goes more into Ziva's mind after Aliyah. Enjoy! **

It was crazy. To think he would actually listen to her, when they were butting heads so much lately. It felt like years ago when he told her… he said… he admitted. He couldn't live without her. The feeling that flashed in her eyes - confusion, anger, hurt, caring, and shame. He had done it all for her before, why did she expect him now?

There was no way he could guilt her for falling in love with Michael Rivkin. She'd given him years, waited, and gotten nothing but hurt in return. And then there was her song, Temptation…

She wrote it for him.

He never heard it.

It was a mission.

But she made the best of it.

Ziva David, asked to sing at a club where she would be keeping eyes on her target. Directed to write a song, and also under surveillance by her kidon unit partner. It would be simple, would it not? A slow, language-complex song.

Her lips moved now, mimicking the way they had moved when she sung, but now no sound came out. Each word echoed in her brain with their specific meaning. There was no way he would ever hear it. Their relationship was a ghost of the past.

_Rusted brandy in a diamond glass_

_everything is made from dreams_

_time is made from honey slow and sweet_

_only the fools know what it means_

Rusted brandy in a diamond glass - her quite vague representation of their night undercover. Not the fake moments, those were purely fake and obviously such, but the small pauses in time in which he was genuinely happy with her. Drinking champagne on the couch in diamond glasses. That what it…

_Temptation, temptation,_

_temptation  oh,_

_temptation, temptation,_

_I can't resist_

Who could resist his charm? She smiled, and lip-sung the french parts of the song, their meaning barely registering. It was the next part that was so meaningful to her..

_Dutch pink and Italian blue_

_He is there, oh waiting for you_

_my will has disappeared_

_now confusion is oh so clear_

_temptation, temptation,_

_temptation  I can't resist_

Italian blue. That had been her white flag, explaining just who she was talking about. Thankfully none of her co-workers knew nor particularly cared that Tony DiNozzo was Italian. But she had, at the time. Besides, he looked so good in blue…

It was hard to pull herself out of memories.

They were partners now, nothing more.

There had never been a chance for anything but pure friendship.

How they had trusted each other.

Teased each other.

Partners in crime.

That's how she wanted it, above all. If he couldn't make that happen… if she couldn't get rid of the ghost of herself… what would happen to them?

Times like now, she wished he was there. They had to talk. Sure, she'd forgiven him. She'd forgiven everything, or tried to. But some days the teasing went too far. And that they could no longer put complete trust in each other…

That was what hurt the most. She had loved being so close to him lately, but at the same time, trying to shake off her hate was hard. Rivkin was another life, and here was Tony DiNozzo, presenting him to herself. She'd only taken the bait once… once. The kiss on the cheek had been purely friendly. But when he had questioned her about Dunham.

Borderline old-times was how she'd seen it.

How she missed it. Everything she left behind.

Everyone.

She dropped her head into her hands and took a deep breath. One of these days, they had to talk. Before she went insane with worry, regret, and pain. Every word he said stung like a dagger plunged through her heart, because it reminded her of everything he put on the line for her. She hadn't even been willing to give him a second chance.

So Ziva-like, she decided, too much like myself.

A sudden knock at the door brought her out of her trance and she hopped to her feet to answer it, doing her best to look kept and happy. At this time, there was only one person who could be knocking, and it hurt even more to know so.

"Tony," the words were out of her mouth before she could even register that it was him.

"Ziva," was his simple reply.

Ziva waved her hand to let him in, but when he did not move, she took his wrist and led him inside. "What are you doing at this time of night?"

The fire in her voice made him flinch inwardly. "Look, I wanted to talk. You're not yourself and if we don't sort this out Gibbs will make us."

"I know."

"Is that my ninja? Accepting defeat?"

"Astounding, isn't it?"

Sarcasm.

"Yeah, I know. Look, if there's anything you need to say…"

"I have nothing to tell you."

"Okay. Because I can see it in your eyes. You still blame me."

"You're right. You did kill Michael."

"I… yes, I did, Ziva. I'm sorry."

"A sign of weakness."

"…I'm also sorry that I almost got you killed. I should have died, not Rivkin."

"Tony!" her eyes were wide and she stepped closer to him. "Do not think like that. I would give a thousand lives for you."

"Would you?" he asked, his tone slightly suspicious.

"Of course, Tony, we are partners," she explained slowly. "But, is this the only reason you are here?"

"Uh, no," he admitted with a classic DiNozzo smile. "My apartment's kinda flooded and McGeek's skipped town. Can I stay here? I even brought my own t-shirt!"

Ziva rolled her eyes and burst out laughing. All awkwardness evaporated and she just stared into his eyes, continuing to laugh for some time. Finally, she regained her composure and looked him in the eye. "Tony, what am I going to do with you? Of course you can stay. You can take the bed, I'll take the couch."

"Zeee-vah," he laughed, stretching out her name, "We're adults! Can it hurt to share the same bed?"

The mischievous look in his eyes brought another smile to her lips. "I suppose, but only if you keep your hands to yourself. However, we do not have work tomorrow. Are you hoping to stay for the weekend?"

"I… hoped," his voice faltered a bit. "I even brought a few of my movies that I could get to."

"Classic, Tony! But I am exhausted. I need some sleep, and I am sure you do as well. Come with me, I will show you to the bedroom," her voice was serious now. If she had not been so, a smart remark would have most likely followed.

"Please do!" Tony broke the stiffness as always. He followed her slowly down the hall, looking at the different places as he passed by.

Finally they stopped in her room. She smiled, sat down on the headboard, and pointed to the bathroom for him to change. He shook his head, however, and took off his jacket to reveal he was already dressed to sleep. Ziva laughed and rolled into the bed on the left side. He followed suit on the right.

After some time, neither could sleep with the draft. Cautiously, Ziva manoeuvred her body so that she was pressed up beside him. He responded by wrapping his arms around her, his breath hot on her neck and ears. "Are you gonna be okay with this, Zee-vah?"

"It is fine, Tony." her reply was muffled by the blanket over her mouth. "However, you are gripping me rather tight. I suppose this may allow my sleeping through tonight."

"Because I'm here?" it was enough to know he was needed.

"Because you're warm," she explained, laughing. "But yes, it is comforting."

They spent another five minutes in silence before Tony could hardly keep himself from talking. After all, his arms were around his partner and the most beautiful woman he knew. She was beside him, trying to sleep, in her home. The tension was obvious.

"Ziva…" he finally whispered. "I'm really sorry about Michael. I was jealous, you're right. But I meant what I said with the truth serum, and what I said to you in Tel Aviv."

"My mind was rather fuzzy at that time," she lied, "perhaps you could remind me?"

"I told you that I risked it all for you, remember?" Tony could hardly choke at the words. "And that I couldn't live without you. It was all true."

"Tony, are you suggesting we be more than friends? We're barely so right now."

"And yet, here I am, laying in your bed with you in my arms. Woah, that didn't sound right…" he smirked.

She turned to face her partner, smirking, and teasingly placed a small kiss on his nose.

"Haha. Shut up and sleep."


	2. I Can't Say I'm Sorry

**A/N: This chapter is definitely more in depth and descriptive. Yes, I fixed the centre problem on chapter one. That even bugged me. D:**

**So, pretty much, watch out for language in this chapter. Nothing worse than "bastard" - and we can probably all guess who calls who such. **

**For anyone who hasn't noticed, this is my take on how Ziva's recovery with Tony should be, rather than what the episodes portray it as. It also starts after Power Down, but then again, Child's Play in in two days. Can't say I'm too excited for that episode, after the disappointment that Power Down was!**

**Anyway, I don't own Michael Rivkin, Ziva, Tony, or NCIS but I do own my arms.**

**Writing this has made me neglect Stained Glass, Limitations, and my famous one-shots. :( Anyway, you want to read... so read away, but then you must review for me!**

Sunlight streamed through the open window and fell on the sleeping pair. The young agent pressed up against her friend, and, professionally, superior - his arms wrapped around her waist with a contented smile on his face. Quite suddenly, Ziva stirred, and opened her eyes to the world. Almost immediately she knew something was wrong. The breathing, hot on her ears, coming from behind her. The hand on her waist. She knew both all too well. Had they--?

"I'm sorry, Michael," her voice cracked. How could she be laying beside the man who so easily killed the love of her life? But, how could she be sure Michael Rivkin had been everything for her anyway? His betrayal left scars, yes; the knowledge that he had played her hurt. But beside it all, she loved him so much - too much. That was one obstacle she'd have to get over to rebuild ties with her obviously caring partner.

It was hard, not only being the proclaimed newbie, but trying to force herself to smile for them. Sure, the cases were exhilarating and she loved every moment, but how could she speak to Tony so easily? And why was he sleeping so comfortably behind her?

Tony sniffled and opened his eyes when Ziva's body moved a little bit and he put a small smile on his face, surprised that she hadn't broken his bones while he slept. For moments, he just breathed in the smell of her hair, before whispering, "Morning, Zeee-vah. How're-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Suddenly, she was on her feet, fire in her eyes. "You killed him! You… you bastard! You killed him and then you rescued me to make you look good. You idiot! You jealous bastard!"

The sudden rage startled him, and Tony barely had any time to react as she broke down in front of him, succumbing to the rage that had been bubbling within. Her left foot aimed for his head, but he rolled just in time, catching her around the waist and pulling her to him. Ziva's fists hit his chest with full force and he tried his best not to cringe with each new blow. His strong arms did not leave her even as she finally stopped attacking him.

"Ziva, look at me," he spoke quietly. "Ziva, look at me! Michael Rivkin was the past. You're safe now. You're in DC, with me, in your new apartment. Mine's flooded, that's why I'm here. You're not in Tel Aviv, trying to shoot me again, and you're not with Salim. That's all over."

She startled at his words. This was the kind of Tony DiNozzo she knew when they talked carefully about Jeanne. Had she not been the jealous lover back then? He had so many chances… but he had only taken the bait when she had moved on. Now her life was still ruined, whether she was an agent who wore a fake smile for her partner every day.

"No, it is not," she spat through clenched teeth. "Tony, you killed him! I may have forgotten who I could trust. I can trust you, I know that now, but I doubt I can forgive you. Can you not agree with such logic?"

"You're right. You shouldn't forgive me," he said simply. "But you are coming with me. Duck said you might have some PTSD, but I don't think that's it. Come on, sweet cheeks, out of bed!"

With one smooth gesture, he flipped her onto her feet on the ground. She tottered unsteadily but he held on firmly, careful not to let go. Ziva… Ziva, of all people. His crazy assassin, his beloved ninja. She'd just screamed at him and, in simple terms. broken down. Again.

"I can't cook," he offered, rummaging through her fridge. "I can try, but you might not want burned eggs á la DiNozzo!"

Ziva rolled her eyes, trying to catch her breath and focus on the present. Michael was a thing of the past, he was right. Tony was now. They had so much potential. A young man, obviously caring, and her former best friend. Yet, she could not shake off the rage.

"If you go on like this you will not have eggs of any kind," she said, smiling pleasantly. "I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat, Ziva, you just spent-"

"No!" she cried out. "No, Tony, I am capable of caring for myself."

"Fine, you're right, you're a big girl. But we really need to talk before Gibbs makes us. You know him - throw us to the wolves and then watch us fight our way out. But in this case, I'm not sure if I'd be the wolf or the person. Probably both."

"Say what you want to say," Ziva prompted, but gave him no more words.

"Look, I know you're angry over Michael. I killed him… but I can't say I'm sorry, Ziva. I'm sorry for what this did to you. I'm sorry about Salim. I'm sorry Gibbs picked me over you. But I can't be sorry that that man is dead," his voice was so dead serious that it took quite a while for her to register what he'd just said.

"You-" her eyes flashed and she drew her gun from her belt. It hardly took her any time to prepare to shoot him. Then it hit her. This was Tony. He was right. She had to accept defeat. "-you're right. But you could at least be sorry! Jesus, Tony, what kind of man are you? You shoot someone because you're a jealous man with a wayward love. I could hardly believe Ducky when he described that of me, but I can see it in you! You're still jealous, of every man I go near! Even Dunham!"

Tony stood there, staring at her as she rambled on. It was hard to choose over kissing her angrily, just to get her to quiet, or standing there and taking it. His ninja was definitely not the same girl he knew less than a year ago. Finally, she made the decision for him, closing the gap between them and just falling against him.

She couldn't cry.

She was Mossad.

And yet, she wasn't hitting the man she had hated so much. She was biting back her angry tears, as she had always done and had been trained to. The last time she'd been like this, she'd cried, yes. For Gibbs.

"Tony…" her voice was muffled by his shirt and she withdrew her face to look up at him. It was evident how much her words had hurt, his eyes alternating between care, worry and visible hurt. She closed her own eyes to avoid looking into the face of the mans he once trusted so much.

Did she still trust him?

Of course. They were partners, and Salim had let her know that she should never doubt Tony again. Not purposely, of course, for he had no knowledge.

She was unsure of what prompted the next movement. Her eyes opened again and she stared into his brilliant, but sad, green eyes; he in return carefully watched her chocolate brown ones. And slowly, he bent his head to kiss her on the cheek, carefully noting the salty taste of tears. Tony let his lips linger for a few seconds, pulling her closer if possible.

Desperately, she yearned to move away, afraid of hurting Michael's memory, but at the same time she was compelled to stay there. Her eyes dropped to his shoulders and she relished the gentle, reassuring kiss he so easily had given her. "Ziva, look at me."

It was hard not to, but she managed, avoiding his gaze as his lips left her soft skin. "Ziva, please, before I Gibbs-smack you."

These words brought a smile to her face. She rolled her eyes at him and looked directly into his eyes, waiting for him to do something. But he didn't. Not for a while.

But there it was, suddenly. He leaned forward again, and she anticipated the gentle kiss on the cheek, but he seemed to have a different course. He slowly placed his lips on hers and her eyes grew wide. She tore out of his grip before her partner could realize what was happening.

"Tony, no! We cannot do this! I loved Michael, and months with Salim does not change the fact that you killed him!"


	3. An Internal Battle

**A/N: This is definitely not my longest nor best chapter. I'm disappointed in myself. That's kind of sad, no?**

**Heads up, there's mentions of God and there's words in Italian. I don't think I put any swearing in this chapter. **

**Anyway, this is Ziva/Tony aftermath of Tony's attempt to kiss her, obviously. Woah, I should research PTSD way more. Thanks to Jena Rink especially, but to all of you other amazing people as well. :) Also, in answer to questions, all will be revealed soon! Just rely on me? **

**I am also well aware that Cote did not write the song, but this is a fanfiction, and therefore I can manipulate it in anyway as I had. I don't own NCIS, Tony, Ziva, Michael Rivkin, Abby, or much else. But, I do own season 3 of NCIS, and I do own the television that I will use to watch Child's Play tomorrow.**

He stumbled backward roughly as she tore out of his grip. Tony's brilliant green eyes were wide in panic. What had he done? He'd tried to kiss her, the woman he could barely admit that he loved. Obviously, she hadn't taken it well. He shook his head and fell back into a kneeling position on the hardwood floor, grinding his palm into his face.

Ziva stood her ground and watched her partner. She saw everything; the flash of panic in his eyes and the sudden realization that he'd gone a little bit farther than friendly. Now he sat before her, not daring to look. Her lips parted and they moved but no sound came out.

It didn't matter. He'd blow it off in a few hours, or so she silently hoped. Without exactly knowing where she was going, the young agent slipped away into her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. What was he doing to her? She'd just cried in his arms. She'd allowed him to kiss her cheek. Then she'd freaked.

"Get a grip, Ziva, you are a trained agent," she whispered to herself, grinding her teeth together. Still, she closed her eyes again before lifting her fragile body up off the master bed and entering the bathroom. A shower might sooth her mind...

-

"_Che cosa ho fatto? Ziva mi ode_," Tony whispered to himself in slurred Italian. He ground his palm against his face again, slightly flinching at the pain he felt. Not physically, of course, for she had not hit him…

He finally coached himself into getting up and collapsing on her couch in the living room. "Ziva, Ziva, I'm sorry. God, she hates me. What the hell did I do? I guess… no."

For a long twenty minutes he lay listening to the rhythmic pounding of water on wall that showed she was taking a shower. Something he should do soon - it was, after all, morning. When the door swung open rather loudly, he sat up quickly to make it look like he was fine. With baited breath, he began the waiting game again.

A clock's relentless tick-tock pounded in his ears.

His lonely breath was like a waterfall in a silent forest.

Slowly, she emerged from the room and walked down the hallway in a small robe. Its golden border and red inside made a magnificent pattern. Of course, she probably could have gotten one a little bit bigger - a robe that went down to her ankles, not just her knees.

"Tony," she whispered, finding that, for the second time in twenty-four hours, she had nothing else to say.

"Ziva!" he exclaimed with a rather boyish smile. "Wow, you're just in a robe. Putting on a show for me?"

Her eyes burned at the words and she shook her head to clear it. The edge of anger was hard to keep out of her voice, but it couldn't be present, not if she valued his sanity or hers. "Tony, look, I'm sorry. I know you wanted to…"

How hard was it to say more? Ziva found herself tripping over words but decided against speaking any longer. She rather uncomfortably sat beside him on her small couch, leaning away.

"Did I want what, Ziva?" he prompted quietly, wondering exactly what was wrong. "You're right, nothing has changed. I killed Rivkin and you won't forgive me. So much for rule… seventeen? Or was that eighteen? _Dio_, Ziva!"

She watched him shake in anger and confusion, and how he mixed in the Italian word for God. Was he afraid of confronting her? "Tony, focus. You killed my lover and my everything. But you saved me from Salim. That I am eternally grateful for."

Acting against her better judgement, she tried to push Michael's image out of her mind as her wall started to crumble and she leaned forward. He look surprised at the sudden movement, his heart beating uncomfortably fast as she lay her head against her knees.

"What are you doing, Ziva? What about Mikey?"

"Tony," her voice shook and cracked as she tried to keep her train of thought steady. "You were definitely right. Michael Rivkin's a thing of the past. I have to think about now."

"Is he?"

It hurt him to have to counter her, but she was obviously still fighting an internal battle. The hope and care in his eyes was replaced by a bitter sadness. Slowly, Tony lifted himself off the couch, careful to move her head out of his way, and took his leave. The bedroom could be locked, could it not?

In the deathly silence that followed, Ziva listened for the slight click of the lock and rose from her position. If anyone could try to cheer her up right now, it would be Abby, her hyperactive young friend. Even thinking about her brought a smile to the agent's lips. "I should call her," she said absentmindedly and picked up the phone.

Speed dial. Useful as always. She clicked on the designated button and simply waited. It was not long for Abby to bounce to and pick up the phone. "Hey, it's Scuito! How can I help you today?"

"Why are you so formal, Abby? It is only me," Ziva asked quizzically.

"Oh, Ziva! It's you. What's up?"

"Do… do you want to go out for a bit?" Anything to escape Tony.

"Sure, where are we going?"

"The bar near the office should be quiet right now."

"Deal."

The next ten minutes felt like the longest of her life. She had been forced to wait for her gothic friend to pick her up and then take off for the bar. Ziva felt so high-strung and ready to leave that she closed the white door of her home beside her and began pacing on the cement doorstep.

"Tony, get out of my head!" She hissed as Abby pulled up. Putting a fake grin on her face, Ziva walked forward to meet and enter the car.

"Wow, Abby, you got here rather fast," Ziva commented.

"Not as fast as you would!" Abby looked hyperactive and happy as usual.

"Hey, I do not drive that fast. You must give me some credit!"

"Okay. See, we're almost here already."

The NCIS building loomed ahead of them and Ziva reclined to listen the radio. Besides her obvious relaxed posture around Abby, she was still trying to fight herself inside.

"Abby, I have to tell you something."

**A/N: The Italian, translated with the best I could find, says "What did I do? Ziva hates me" and "God, Ziva!" I hope I got that right. :)**


	4. Anyway, Abby

**A/N: Apologies for not updating. Lack of inspiration is not fun.**

**This is NOT my best chapter, and it's a bit out of character. Well, not really, it just shows the more caring and weak out-of-work personas we do not see in Tony and Ziva.**

**I don't own NCIS. I don't own Ziva, Tony, Abby, McGee, Probie nicknames, or, well anything. I don't own you, that's for sure. But, I do like this Imac that I own. Pretty, hey?**

**Enjoy~**

His eyes closed and face dropped into his hands as she took her leave. It was insane. Tony was insane. He should be childish, he could be flirtatious, he could be serious. But he had never been like this before. His emotions tumbled over themselves, gone too fast to be recognized.

This was crazy. Ziva had wanted to make up and get a little bit closer, but he had not been himself. With any other girl, he would have easily taken advantage and now they would be doing other extra curricular activities involving the bed he now sat on… rather than both a mess.

She was still fighting against him, she still loved Michael no matter what, and kissing him would not do anything. How he wished he'd seized the moment and now could be placing quick kisses on innumerable places, if only just a chaste one. He'd tried earlier, and how wrong he had been to try.

"She's gone," he finally realized out loud, green eyes still staring at nothing. "My God, why did I come here. Gibbs could have taken me, or I could have rented hotel… she's… I don't know… God, what did I do? After Rivkin, this is the worst thing I could have tried to do. It's impossible. But she's gone. With Abby, I hope, her car should still be here. With Abby… maybe… I should go out with McGee."

His unsteady hands reached for a sleek, black phone that he used for social occasions rather than work-related. It shone in the sunlight streaming from the window behind it and Tony, enticing him to call a former girl. No, it was a familiar face he needed right now. Needed. McGee?

It was enough to bring a smile, though small and bitter, to his face. Slow, steady hands flipped open the phone and shifted through his contacts. McGee… it was early, perhaps too early for a bar, but Ziva was gone, so why not? He drew in a shaky breath and dialled.

"McGee?" his voice broke through as soon as a beep sounded to remind him he was not only on the phone, but it had been picked up.

"Tony?" McGee was obviously puzzled. "Hey, what's up?"

"I… uh… want to go out? I mean, you're probably writing, but I have room for a Probiewan and his laptop in my car…"

"Haha, classic. Sure, I guess, but where are we supposed to go?"

Trust McGeek to be logical.

"I… well, we know most of the bars are closed. But there's still that one by the office… you know, the one we visit on Fridays sometimes? With Boss and Duck?"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me to bring a bottle of beer and meet you in the squad room. Anyway, Tony, sure, I guess. And I'll leave my Probiewan laptop home, thanks. When can you be here?"

"Twenty minutes," Tony decided, snapping his phone shut.

He closed his eyes one more time, drew in a sharp breath, and rose from the bed.

-

"What's up, Ziva? Here, tell me inside!" Abby flashed her friend a smile and pulled into one of the many vacant parking lots. She hop-skip-jumped out of the car and waited impatiently for Ziva to follow more hesitantly. Frustrated with the slow movement, the forensic scientist grabbed Ziva's hand and pulled her into the bar. Together, they sat down at one of the counters. "Come on. Spill!"

"I… it's complicated Abby," Ziva offered quietly. No it is not, she added in her head.

"I have time to listen, Zivah. Start at the beginning… and bartender, nothing for me right now," she smiled a trademark smile that could rival Tony's.

"Fine. First of all, Tony is staying with me for the weekend. It is, perhaps, not the best idea, as one would think from the events that have occurred so far."

"Ahh, got a little close, did we? Hope you had a fun night in bed, anyway..." the male bartender laughed, winking at her. Anger flashed across Ziva's face and she raised her hand to hit him, but found herself restrained by Abby.

"Sorry, Abby. Alright. Where was I?"

"You said Tony's staying, but it's not a good idea," Abby smiled.

"He just showed up upon my doorstep. I offered him refuge for the night, and of course he accepted. Rather, he offered to take refuge and I had no choice but to accept. It was quite late, so we slept - he… Abby… he held me while we slept." Her voice was shaky, and Abby's eyes widened.

"No, we did not do anything. But I don't know how to feel. He killed Michael. He almost got me killed. No, he rescued me, and I am eternally grateful, but I cannot help but be mistrustful."

"That's understandable," Abby murmured, nodding. "Michael meant a lot to you."

"Woah, wait, did you just say that guy - Tony or whoever - killed somebody? I'm calling the cops!" the bartender called, eyes wide.

The forensic scientist exchanged a look with her friend and they burst out laughing. Ziva quickly gathered herself and turned to him. She took her gun in one hand and badge in other, slowly saying, "I am NCIS."

"But I haven't seen you around."

"You wouldn't have. I have been in Somalia for the past few months, tied to a chair and tortured. Would you like more detail?"

The pain from the memories flashed across her eyes again and she tried to overcome the weakness.

"Uhh, no, I'm good. Wait, so Tony… the guy who comes here every Friday or so? Oh, yeah, he talked about you, but whatever."

"Anyway, Abby…"

-

"McGee!" Tony cried and pounded against the door leading to the apartment that concealed his Probie. "Open up!"

As if on command, it banged open and McGee stood smiling at him. He nodded and followed Tony to the waiting car. "It won't take long, I guess. Not like we're gonna score right now, Tony!"

This brought a small, wry smile to his face. The older man nodded and stepped into the driver's side, his foot pressed down so hard on the gas as soon as the door whipped closed. He could barely see…

The car crunched to a stop just outside the bar, parked around back in a quiet spot. He got out wordlessly and walked to the back door. Finally, he looked at McGee as they entered the bar, and told him quietly, "I have something to tell you, my Probiewan."

"...I woke from a nightmare the next morning to see him. I screamed at him. He… calmed me down. But I could tell my words pained him. I called him a jealous bastard, Abby!"

Abby drew in a sharp breath and stared.

"Please, do not be mad at me… he offered breakfast and I screamed at him again, I can't remember exactly why. He pulled me into his arms and kissed my cheek softly. I… Abby, but then he went farther. He tried to actually kiss me. And I pulled away, screaming about Michael."

"You jealous bastard," Tony whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Abby, I tried to retaliate later. I tried to be flirtatious as we tend to be, and I sat beside him. I lay my head on his knees, but he looked at me and said…"

"You're right, nothing has changed. I killed Rivkin and you won't forgive me," Tony recited loudly from behind her. His eyes were spiked with emotion and slight heartbreak.

Ziva stood up quickly and backed up against the counter. "Tony!"

The man smiled and advanced on her, his eyes still quiet and sad. He stopped just in front of her and stared, unsure of what to do.

And if in complete agreement, the pair enveloped one another in a hug.

He held her in his arms, ignoring the gasps and excited voices from behind them. His face in her hair by her ear…

"Ziva," he murmured.


End file.
